


Overturned Dynamic

by theartisticfool



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D's
Genre: Force-Feeding, M/M, Stuffing, Teasing, i honestly don't know what to put here it's a pretty tame fic overall, rua please don't read this i want to preserve our friendship, shipping is p slight so if you're not here for shipping have no fear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 09:32:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7165703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theartisticfool/pseuds/theartisticfool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which brave's knack for playing with his friends overwhelms harald's assertive ego, to harald's dismay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overturned Dynamic

**Author's Note:**

> i can't believe the first stuffing fic in the 5ds tag is about two characters that no one cares about
> 
> anyway it's 2:30am and i'm dying so take this mess n tell me what you think

“Y’know,” Brave remarks with a playful grin, “your figure’s pretty deceptive.” He turns from where he stands at the stove in the apartment shared by the three, mindful not to let the sauce on the spoon in the hand resting against his hip drip onto the floor. “You have an impressive appetite for being so thin.”

Harald’s only response to his teammate is a cold glare from where he sits at the table. His breathing is slow but far from calm, a forced restraint pulling it taut and tense as he bites back the urge to snap. The way he’s slumped over in his chair is unusual for him - normally he sits up nice and tall - and it’s hard to determine whether he’s positioned that way due to his evident irritation or because the weight of his swollen stomach makes it uncomfortable to sit any other way. Frankly, Brave doesn’t care.

“You look cute when you grit your teeth like that,” he comments as he sets the wooden spoon down in the pot on the stove after giving it a good stir. He takes a few steps forward, moving to Harald’s side. “You know what else is cute?”

“What...?” Harald spitefully appeals.

“This~” Brave’s slender fingers draw slow circles over Harald’s belly before giving it a firm squeeze. It’s enough to bring a squeak out of him, and he bites his lip with deeply-flushed cheeks out of humiliation. Harald is a noble servant of Odin, not some toy for Brave to test his kinks out on...! And he - leader of Team Ragnarok - certainly doesn’t need to be acting in such a manner, and especially not in ways that will please Brave’s playful nature. Brave, after all, will do whatever he wants even without anyone to back up his actions; the last thing he needs is encouragement.

Harald doesn’t exactly appreciate Brave’s touches, even if they’re harmless and all in good fun. The _last_ thing that he considers this all to be is ‘fun’, and so he would rather it not be treated as such. He shoos his partner away when his stomach gurgles quietly, and with Brave’s attention elsewhere, he gives his sore gut a much-needed rubbing. For the past hour, Brave’s had Harald sit at the dinner table and eat whatever the trickster makes for him, only letting up when another dish is being prepared. Brave had been preparing beforehand, however, so by the time he actually called Harald in to make him eat, there was already a fair amount of food for him. One wouldn’t expect for Harald to be capable of consuming an entire dish by himself - or at least not easily - what with his slender body and subtle appetite. Brave knows better than that, though, He knows that Harald can withstand a lot of pressure in both a figurative and literal sense, and he knows even more that Harald’s ego will prevent him from standing down when a challenge is presented. There’s practically a guarantee that Brave can do whatever he wants with Harald so long as he words his desires just right.

Harald sighs and wipes his mouth with a napkin for what has to be the fifth time in five minutes. He can hardly stand the phantom feeling of grease or the like on his lips, and it’s enough to make him want to claw them off. What’s far from phantom, though, is the sensation of saliva running down his chin as he pants from the exhaustion of _eating so damn much_. He can’t stop drooling for the life of him; it’s disgusting, and he’s internally cursing his own body for making him do something so repulsive and embarrassing. He can tell Brave is getting a kick out of it, too, and that makes it all the worse.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Brave sneers from the stove again, and Harald blinks in surprise upon realising that he’s scowling at the trickster. It’s appropriate for him to be doing so, he thinks. Before he can give it more thought, Brave cuts in with more unrequested commentary. “This isn’t even my fault anymore, you know.” He gestures to Harald. “It’s not like I’ve tied you up in your chair or something. If you’re really that upset about all of this, then why don’t you just leave?”

Brave has a point; there’s nothing physically stopping Harald from just standing up and going to his room. He’s aware that Dragan is sleeping on the couch in the other room, though, and should he wake up while Harald attempts to pass through... Well, Harald would frankly like to spare himself the embarrassment of having to explain to his other teammate why his stomach is bulging so heavily from the rest of him, why he feels so stuffed and ill. And he _especially_ wants to spare himself from having to look at Brave’s inevitable smirk of triumph during that explanation. He’d never hear the end of it from either of them.

With a quiet grumble, Harald merely shifts in his seat and waits for Brave to start making more comments toward him.

“That’s what I thought~” Brave hums before giving the pot another stir. “Hnn, I think this is done now!”

Harald groans.

“Oh, relax, will you? It’s just soup. It’s not even that thick.”

“Are you trying to make me feel waterlogged, too...?”

“Only one way to find out~”

Harald wants to smash his face against the table.

Soon Brave pours him a bowl of the hot soup and brings it to him, smiling a little too cheerily for his liking. It’s pretty simple soup overall, comprised of a thin broth and noodles with some chunks of chicken throughout. It’s rather hot to start, but Harald begins to eat it anyway. The feeling of the warm liquid sitting in his stomach is quite pronounced even after everything else he’s already eaten on top of that, and it’s almost enough to make him turn away from the rest of it just so he doesn’t have to feel it. He continues, though, and he frankly isn’t entirely sure why he’s subjecting himself to this. He doesn’t really want perfectly good food to go to waste, he supposes; he highly doubts that he’s enduring this because he _likes_ it. He doesn’t. At all.

Harald finishes the bowl somewhat slowly, if only because he wants to give his full stomach a rest. He huffs quietly and bites his lip as he leans back and swears to himself that his shirt feels even tighter than it did before, which is just _great_ considering the last thing he wants at the moment is to feel more self-conscious about his prominent belly. Thanks, Brave.

“You eat too slowly,” Brave suddenly speaks up; he sounds cross, but his expression holds no hints of malice at all. He’s brought the pot over to the table, and he moves Harald’s bowl out of the way. Before Harald can make a comment, Brave sits up onto the table in front of his leader and continues to talk. “This is gonna get cold if I let you eat it one bowl at a time.” He traces his nails along Harald’s jawline and presses up on his chin. Harald pulls back, refusing to lift his head for Brave; Brave snorts and instead presses his fingers into Harald’s pretty silver hair and yanks down on it, forcing Harald to look up as he wanted.

“Aggressive much...?” Harald mutters with narrowed eyes.

“A game isn’t fun if you don’t play along!” Brave reasons as he uses his other hand to hold Harald’s jaws apart. “Now keep your mouth like that, alright?” He removes his hand shortly afterward; Harald obliges begrudgingly and keeps his jaws parted. “Good~”

The trickster, pleased with his leader’s cooperation, giggles as he wipes the saliva off of his fingers and lifts the soup pot off of the table with both of his hands. “What are you doing with that...?” Harald asks quickly as the pot is brought close to him.

“Just work with me and this will go smoothly, okay?” Brave tells him in a calm voice. He lowers the pot slightly to keep some strain off of his arms, and the scent of chicken fills the air under Harald’s nose. It’s only when Harald gives a confirmative nod in response to the simple directions that Brave’s grin returns, and he lifts the pot once more, pressing the pouring spout on the side to Harald’s lips. He tilts it slowly, giving Harald enough time to process his plan so that he can start drinking the soup as soon as it enters his mouth instead of choking on it in surprise. It’s still quite warm, but it’s no longer scalding like it was when Harald first tried it. He takes steady gulps, trying not to cringe at the awkwardness of the whole thing. The fact that the soup isn’t only broth makes this endeavour a bit more difficult for him, as the noodles and chicken bring the risk of making him choke to the table. Brave seems to be aware of this, Harald notices; Brave can be a very excitable person that occasionally takes things too far without realising it, but in this instance he seems to be taking great care not to overwhelm his companion. Harald takes his course in swallow by swallow, a soft blush spreading across his cheeks as he feels his stomach swell slowly, stretching the fibres of his shirt.

Brave lowers the pot, now about halfway full, and Harald takes a moment to gasp for air that he honestly forgot he needed. “Take it easy, okay?” he says with a look of faint concern. “How are you feeling?”

“Ill,” Harald snaps in response. “No thanks to you...”

Brave chuckles. “Now, now, we’re almost done. I don’t feel like cooking anything else; I have enough dishes to clean as it is.”

“Ah.”

Harald licks his lips once he’s caught his breath again. If anything, the whole experience is at least somewhat enjoyable because Brave’s cooking happens to be rather incredible. Being stuffed isn’t really his thing by any means, but at least it’s good food.

“Feel better?”

“Yeah... Much better...”

“Ready to continue?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be...”

Brave takes the pot and brings it back up to Harald’s mouth, tipping it more deeply so that they can jump right back in. Harald adjusts surprisingly easily, beginning to swallow the soup again with what Brave believes could be eagerness. Harald closes his eyes, gulping almost rhythmically as he’s fed. He brings his hand up to his stomach, his fingers trailing along the front placket of his shirt and slowly undoing the buttons that felt tightest to give his growing stomach more room. He feels as though he’s beginning to strain himself, but such a prospect isn’t as unappealing to him as it was only moments earlier. This is all coming to him more easily now despite the fact that he appears to be approaching his limit. He’s definitely feeling sore, that’s for certain.

Before he knows it, Harald almost gags as he ends up swallowing air instead of soup. He wasn’t paying attention to how much was left, and so he’s quite shocked to find that it’s already all gone. Brave seems more than pleased, but his smile is one of soft happiness, different from the cunning smirks he’d been giving Harald throughout his fun. He sets the pot down on the table and wipes Harald’s lips clean. Harald grumbles something inaudible at the action, but other than that, he doesn’t do much to oppose it.

“Not so bad, huh?” Brave asks with a chuckle.

“I suppose not...” Harald responds, glancing away and refusing to meet Brave’s bright eyes. The trickster hums thoughtfully before hopping off of the table and nuzzling Harald rather affectionately. Harald blinks in surprise at the sudden act, and while his guard is down, Brave gives his bloated belly another tight squeeze. Harald yelps and jolts up, his outcry cut short by a deep belch. Both of them stare at each other in silence for a moment, neither quite expecting that from the other. Harald’s cheeks are a dark red from embarrassment, Brave’s from finding it kind of adorable in a sense.

Brave smirks. “I’m telling Dragan.”

Harald’s look of shock turns to a glare of rage. “No you’re _not_!”

Brave takes off immediately, pushing himself away from the table to go into the living room where Dragan was just beginning to wake. Harald moves to chase after him, but the sloshing of his stuffed stomach from the sudden movement sends a wave of nausea through him, and he has to cover his mouth while sitting back down. He’ll have to let his teammates tease him all they want; for now, he needs to focus on keeping his large meal down. It’d be such a waste if he couldn’t make the most of it, after all.


End file.
